


No Cosy Cottage Holiday

by gin_tonic



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Community: snape_potter, Forced Bonding, M/M, cliche fest, loss of magic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-01-06
Updated: 2012-01-06
Packaged: 2017-10-29 01:31:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 13,257
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/314378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gin_tonic/pseuds/gin_tonic
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Harry and Snape enter a house to break the curses in it and make it inhabitable for the new owner. Unfortunately they didn't count on something going wrong, least of all, on one of the curses affecting them this deeply.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No Cosy Cottage Holiday

**Author's Note:**

> Many, many thanks to my beta [](http://www.dreamwidth.org/profile?user=angela_snape)[**angela_snape**](http://www.dreamwidth.org/profile?user=angela_snape)!  <3
> 
>   
>    
> 

"Hurry up, would you?" Snape barked at him as they moved through the room.

Harry rolled his eyes; Snape knew full well that there was no hurrying up with a job like this, he just liked to bark and snark and snap at Harry. It had been three years since Harry had started at the small curse-breaking company that Snape had been working at as well. First he had pondered long and hard about whether he should work somewhere Snape was working as well – he had helped Snape after the war and Snape had helped him during, but that didn't mean that they were anywhere near friendly acquaintances – but in the end the job had won. Curse breaking was interesting, exciting, though on a different, calmer, level than being an Auror was. He'd done that for a couple of years, but then Ron had decided to go help George in the joke-shop, Harry's new partner had been shit and Harry had got hurt, and Harry had decided that changing his job as well was a good idea.

Which was how he landed in this cottage in the middle of nowhere. The company's owner had felt, for some reason, that Snape and Harry were his two best curse-breakers when it came to, what he had phrased, 'unusual cases', and had, despite their protests, assigned them to this one together. A family had inherited it from an old aunt who had died recently and had wanted it cleaned out and curse-free before entering it. The aunt had been known to be mad as a hatter and slightly paranoid at that, plus the husband had told Harry that she might have liked his wife, but certainly not him. He feared that she had laid some traps to rid his wife of his presence.

He'd been right, too, Harry had found out quickly. The doormat had been spelled to try and strangle everyone male who crossed it – Harry had, thank Merlin, thought to cast a diagnosis and detection spell first thing. The humiliation of having Snape remove an unfriendly doormat would have been too much.

It wasn't their first job together by far, but they tried to avoid being sent out together. It wasn't that their working together endangered them, but rather, it drove them mad. From the first moment they had seen each other, they had snarked and commented about and to each other. Unfortunately, Snape was still the wittier man and mostly won their arguments. Which had, once, resulted in Harry buying large quantities of George's special joke-shop accessories (he'd got a discount, too) and... Well. It hadn't been pretty. Neither were the curses that had hit Harry afterwards, but they both tried not to discuss that particular moment in time. Besides, that had been over a year ago, before they had entered the cottage.

"Are you quite done scanning the bookshelf for curses?" Harry asked over his shoulder.

Snape huffed. "It's only drivel, anyway. One would think a lady with a well-developed taste in curses would also have a good taste in books."

"Maybe she hid them?"

"Where? In the fridge? Don't try to pretend you know the first thing about books, Potter." Snape moved along the wall and carefully scanned every inch of the room.

Harry resorted back to rolling his eyes. He did, in fact, have a fully stacked bookshelf at home. Though he wasn't about to say that, because Snape would surely want to know which books he owned and would declare his collection drivel as well. He liked Muggle crime novels and the occasional fantasy book – most of which he read in the bathroom. Another thing he wouldn't tell Snape.

The cottage was fairly small. There was the living room with an open kitchen and a dining area and a small hallway leading to what seemed to be a bathroom and a bedroom. It should, technically, not take too long to de-curse this building, Harry thought and promptly found a cursed pot.

Breaking curses could be an art form, in Harry's opinion. The slow waving of the wand, designed not to disturb or trigger a curse, the mumbled incantations that were sometimes needed, because curses could be stubborn and also powerful and the curse breaker occasionally needed an extra boost provided by verbal incantations as opposed to a non-verbal spell. Every curse-breaker had his or her own style, too.

Harry waved his wand and let the pot circle in the air, spilling spells all around it before he found the source of the curse, grabbed it and pulled it out. Another spell dismantled the evil energy and Harry let out a sigh of content. He placed the pot back on the stove and searched the kitchen for more hidden spells.

"Have you cleared the living room yet?"

"Mostly. There is just one curse left in the coffee table."

"Merlin, the old lady certainly was inventive." Harry shook his head and moved out of the kitchen to wait for Snape near the hallway.

"And vindictive." Snape nodded, then concentrated on the curse. Harry had secretly always liked to watch Snape casting spells. He had an elegance in his wand movements that Harry lacked, a flourish that fit perfectly with his billowing robes. And Snape was efficient with curses as well. Working with him, despite their differences, also had its perks, because Harry had at least never needed to worry about his own safety.

Once the coffee table was dealt with they moved towards the bedroom. It was best to always check rooms together, because that way the other curse breaker could step in if something went wrong. Harry adhered to that rule, despite the brashness he had displayed in his teenage years. Even he had grown up, Hermione had noted a while ago.

The bedroom was an old biddy's dream and Harry's nightmare, style wise. Snape didn't seem to be too enamoured with the flower-explosion, the cosies that were under every lamp, or the old heavy wardrobe that would surely house pixies, either, judging by the sneer he displayed on his face.

"How... quaint."

"How... terrifying you mean."

Snape didn't reply. Harry had come to learn that this could either mean that Snape was ever so slightly amused or ever so slightly agreed with him (that had only happened once, when they had worked on a project with a co-worker and said co-worker had caused an explosion that had _hurt_ ) or that Snape would explode any second now (though there was usually a lot more jaw-clenching and wand-gripping involved with that one). Sometimes Harry was surprised at his knowledge of Snape – at least until he encountered yet another thing he hadn't known about the man, another situation that he had misjudged. There were a lot of those, especially since they hardly worked with one another.

"You take the wardrobe," Snape said and Harry sighed but did as he was told. There was no use arguing with the man. That much he had learned during his years at Hogwarts. Not that it had ever stopped him, but, yeah, growing up and stuff like that had changed things. Sometimes it definitely was less fun being an adult.

"Naturally you take something that's not pixie-infested," Harry complained nevertheless. Nobody had said he had to do things quietly, but Snape didn't reply to this either. Maybe there were more categories to Snape's silence than he had thought.

Harry ran his wand over the edges of the wardrobe, then checked the locks and keyholes for possible dangers. Apart from a locking spell everything seemed to be fine, so Harry checked whether there would be any Pixies in the wardrobe (this could be done without actually having to open it. For some reason, singing the name Gilderoy Lockhart did weird things to them – usually enough to make them rattle the wardrobe or whatever else they were hiding in). Harry couldn't detect any pixies and shot a grin at Snape, who wasn't paying any attention to him and was focused on a little music box instead.

"That looks kind of nice," Harry remarked and nodded at the box in Snape's hands.

"You say that. Most likely the little figurine inside will jump out and try to claw a hole into whoever opens the box."

"Then why don't you try to open it?"

Snape gave him sneer. "Cute." Another spell cast, Snape nodded in satisfaction, cast a Bubblehead-charm around the box and flicked it open with his wand. Inside a little ballerina was spinning en pointe.

"Very dangerous indeed." Harry snorted and opened the wardrobe.

It was as if someone had let loose a small hurricane. Harry was pushed back with what seemed like a gust of wind. He looked up, startled as he was, and looked into the eyes of Rowle, a Death Eater who had died – _died_ , bloody and messy and hopefully not quickly – during the war. Breath and what would have been a scream caught in Harry's throat as he stared at the man. Rowle raised his wand and pointed it at Harry.

"Potter, what a nice surprise." A flick of Rowle's wand had Harry flying backwards, where he crashed into Snape and made them both fall onto the bed. He heard Snape yell out: "Riddikulus!" but couldn't tear his eyes away from Rowle, not even as he imploded. Something gripped his heart even then, or so he had thought, until he realised that the bed was glowing and that Snape was looking at him with something akin to horror in his eyes.

"What have you done?!" He heard Snape shout before the world went black.

  
He woke up hours later. His neck was hurting and, after blinking his eyes and waiting for the world to come back into focus, he realised that was because he was lying at a weird angle on Snape's shoulder. Harry jerked back and scooted backwards on the bed, trying to grasp what had happened. He remembered opening the wardrobe and – Harry shuddered, then forced himself to focus on the bed.

Something had to be wrong with the bed, or the two of them wouldn't be lying there. Maybe a diagnostics spell wouldn't be amiss, Harry thought and raised his wand. Before he could cast anything, though, Snape began to stir and groan. He didn't even have his eyes open when he mumbled: "What have you done now, Potter?"

Harry had the decency to look sheepish when Snape finally did open his eyes. "Really, I'm sorry," he said and hoped he sounded contrite enough. They were all right – no missing limbs, no blood, no intestines anywhere – it seemed, so why be too worried about what had happened. He just hoped Snape wouldn't want to dwell on the episode.

Snape pushed himself upright and glanced at the wardrobe, then at Harry and finally focused on Harry's wand. "Found out what exactly you caused?"

Harry shook his head. "I was about to cast -"

"Well, then get on with it." Snape got up gingerly – okay, well, maybe they were a little worse for the wear what with Harry crashing into Snape. Now that he thought of it, his head hurt a little, too. Harry shrugged it off and flicked and double-swished. And nothing happened. Harry frowned, repeated the movement, then repeated it again, this time with an incantation. Still nothing. Behind him, Snape groaned and Harry heard him take out his wand.

"What the -"

Upon turning around, Harry found Snape staring at his wand as if it had grown into a tree. Snape swished and flicked and whirled and slowly Harry didn't feel very good anymore, but very, very anxious. He, too, began to try and cast spells – " _Wingardium Leviosa_!", " _Lumos_!" – but nothing happened. He turned his eyes on Snape, who seemed to tremble a bit.

"Snape?" he asked insecurely.

"Shut up." Snape shook his wand, then started feeling his arms, closed his eyes and did _something_. And still nothing happened. "Shut. The fuck. UP!" Snape yelled suddenly and pointed his wand at Harry with fury in his eyes. Harry jerked back on the bed, but that was about all the movement caused.

"We lost our magic, didn't we?" he asked timidly and received a glare as an answer.

  


* * * * *

  
Snape stormed out of the cottage immediately – or at least he tried. About twenty feet after leaving the front door he smacked into an invisible wall and fell flat on his arse. Harry tried not to laugh (mainly because Snape was already pissed off and he was bound to keep Harry's laughter in mind until he could cast hexes again – and Snape's hexes _hurt_ ). Harry stared at the spot where the invisible wall had to begin. Had his magic worked correctly, he would have felt the magic bristling on his skin and it was disconcerting that he didn't feel even so much as a tingle.

"We're locked in," he said as he moved forward to carefully touch the wall. It shimmered a little under his fingers.

"Very astute. Could you stop stating the obvious and use what little brain capacity you have to try and help me figure out how to get out of here?" Snape snapped and brushed grass off of his robes.

"Risking the accusation of repeating myself: we're locked within what looks like a pretty strong ward and have no magic that we can use to break us out of here."

"You're repeating yourself."

Harry shot Snape a dark look. "We need help."

"I had already figured that out."

"How good of you to share."

"The obvious, Potter. Never state the obvious. If we cannot get out –"

"What about the Floo?"

Snape eyed him with a sneer marring his face. Harry wondered if he should tell Snape that he had a booger up his nose, but opted for trying not to look at that part of Snape's face anymore. "You think a spell that got us locked in here will have the loophole of an open Floo-connection?"

Harry shrugged. "Maybe. We could at least try – even if we can't Floo out, maybe someone can Floo in. Or we can call for help that way." Snape's expression was still more than doubtful. "Well, you can stay out here if you want, I'm going in to try and get us out of here." Merlin forbid he had to stay here with Snape for more than a couple of hours.

Harry was nearly through the door when he felt something like a rope around his neck, yanking him back. This time he landed flat on his back and blinked up at the blue sky while trying to catch his breath. "Bloody hell." Snape wasn't so kind not to laugh. Harry got up and tried again to cross the doorstep, but stopped in his tracks when he felt the sensation around his neck again.

Confused, he looked back at Snape, but this couldn't be Snape's doing. After all neither of them had magic at the moment. Carefully Harry extended his hand to see if there was another ward preventing him from entering the house, but there was no such thing. But there was something holding him here. Maybe... Harry frowned and started walking along the house until he felt the sensation again. He stopped before the yanking could start and turned around. Snape was by now watching him with a certain amount of curiosity – and he was exactly the same distance as he had been when Harry had wanted to enter the cottage.

"Bad news," Harry said.

"And us being trapped here without magic isn't already bad news?"

"This is worse." So much worse. Harry rubbed a hand over his face and wished he didn't have to say it. "I think something is keeping us from being apart further than about twenty feet or something."

"Really." Snape's voice had started to sound like a graveyard – final, cold and quite frightening.

"Yes." Harry cleared his throat. "It appears I can't walk away from you further than that."

"Really." Snape turned on the spot and started walking. Promptly, he, too, was yanked back. "Fuck," he gasped as he rubbed his throat. "This is your fault, Potter! You and your inability to pay attention to your surroundings! If you had checked the bed beforehand -"

"The bed was on your side of the room!"

"I had not yet reached that part! It was you who didn't do a proper job with the wardrobe! A grown wizard, allowing himself to be scared by a bloody Boggart!"

"I -" Harry looked at the ground. Snape was right. He should have known it was a Boggart. Rowle was dead, after all. He had seen it with his own eyes. The Rowle in the wardrobe couldn't have been the real deal and yet seeing him had been so terrifying...

"If you had been able to deal with it, then you wouldn't have crashed into me and we wouldn't be in this predicament! I could strangle you!"

"Then why don't you?!" The words were out Harry's mouth before he could stop himself. Fists at his side he felt very much like the sixteen year old that had constantly fought with Snape, but the man enraged him like no other. If Snape wanted to be an arse, then he could start following through on his bloody threats!

Snape sniffed and looked at him with contempt. "Don't be ridiculous. We will go to the Floo and see if we can reach someone. Now."

Sullen, Harry did as he was told; all too aware that Snape was following him with just barely enough distance to allow them to move. Harry walked over to the small fireplace and looked for Floo-powder. There were vases and bowls and a little box, but none held any powder of any sort. "Fuck."

"No Floo-powder?"

"No."

Snape let out a grunt that for all Harry cared could have been an 'I-told-you-so'. It probably was, too. Harry flopped down on the sofa next to the fireplace and buried his head in his hands. They were so fucked. No way out, no way to call anyone for help. Eventually their boss might notice that they weren't coming back and that something had happened, but that could take from a day to four, depending on whether he was paying any attention this time. The thought of spending that much time with Snape didn't exactly sound appealing. "Fuck."

There had to be something Harry could do. He couldn't just sit around; he had to get help somehow. The idea popped into his head instantly. "Kreacher!" he yelled, startling Snape.

Almost instantly Kreacher popped into existence, rubbing his arms furiously and looking a little worse for wear. "Master called."

Harry blinked. He had hoped, but he hadn't really believed that this would work. He was so glad it had, though he still was a little worried at Kreacher's appearance. Had anything happened to the creature while Harry was out of it? His flat should have been warded enough to protect anything and anyone in it. "What happened? You look like -"

"The wards do not like Kreacher being here." Kreacher rubbed at his arms. "If Master could -"

"Yes, yes, of course," Harry stumbled over his words. "We're locked in here. I need you to get help."

"Tell Granger," Snape butted in. "She at least has a mind that can cope with the situation. Do not bother chatting to anyone ginger." Snape was apparently immune to the glare Harry sent his way. Kreacher had his eyes fastened on Harry, waiting impatiently, if that could be said for a house-elf.

"Oh!" Harry cleared his throat. "Yes, go, Kreacher." Kreacher Disapparated and Harry believed he could still hear a faint 'As you wish, Master'. Harry exhaled in relief. Hermione would know what to do. She was an Unspeakable, after all, she had _resources_. Breaking curses might be his forte, but she knew how to get magic back. She had to. In his book that made her a superhero.

It took two hours until they heard someone yelling from outside. They hurried out of the cottage, both of them squeezing through the doorway at the same time and coming to a stop only inches before they hit the wards. A couple of feet away – were the wards really this thick? No wonder they had repelled Snape with such a force! – stood a very worried looking Hermione.

"Harry! Thank God you're alright!" she exclaimed and did a step forward, only to have her foot visibly hit something very solid. She cleared her throat with embarrassment.

Snape sniffed. "I suppose you declaring your relief at me being alive is too much of a sentiment."

Both Harry and Hermione ignored him. "Yeah, well, as alright as I can be. Can you get us out of here, 'Mione?" The flush on Hermione's face already told him the answer. "Hermione?"

"It's not as easy as that, Harry. You seem to have triggered some very powerful magic here -"

"See, I told you it's your fault," muttered Snape. Harry would have given anything to hex the man.

"- and it's not something that's easy to break. It would work better from the inside, really."

"Miss Granger -"

"Weasley, actually. Granger-Weasley."

Snape growled. "Granger-Weasley then. You cannot get in to do the deed and we cannot break the wards from within, because we don't have any magic."

"Oh." Hermione blinked. "Harry?"

Harry rubbed the back of his head and tried not to look at Hermione. She, too, would probably think that this was his fault – and she would be right about it, too. It should be his responsibility to get them out, but he couldn't do shit. "Yes," he finally admitted. "It's a side-effect of the curse. Binds us to this place and by taking our magic away it makes sure we can't free ourselves." He looked up as a thought suddenly came to him. "We can get it back, can't we? We can get our magic back?"

Hermione pursed her lips. "Technically, you should. But it all really depends on the conditions of the curse."

"Well, there wasn't exactly a manual." Snape looked at Harry, then both he and Harry sighed in defeat. "But we know of at least one other condition. We seemed to be bound to each other as well."

Harry nodded and added at Hermione's astounded look. "We can't separate for more than twenty feet."

Hermione's eyes got even bigger – if that was even possible – and she looked from one to the other. Hermione looking like that was never a good sign, Harry had discovered over the years. "I will do some research, but I won't get you out today. I can't even guarantee you tomorrow. But I'll do my best."

"See that you do."

For that, Harry elbowed Snape hard in the side.

"Potter, don't think I cannot hurt you without my magic. For this act of violence you will cook dinner."

Harry resisted the temptation of sticking out his tongue at Snape and turned his attention to Hermione, who was all but giving Snape the evil eye.

"You will see that no harm comes to Harry or I swear by Merlin that your body will never be found!" Her threat wasn't an empty one either and both Harry and Snape swallowed hard and visibly. Harry silently vowed to never tell Hermione if Snape did anything to him – not that he would assure Snape of that. It was always good to have a little leverage in hand. The little Slytherin in him agreed.

  


* * * * *

  
Harry did cook dinner, after all. It was a good way to keep busy, especially with Snape glowering at him all the time. There were issues Harry would have liked to address, but he didn't know how to bring them – or anything else, really – up, so Harry stayed silent. There wasn't much in the cupboards, just some old tins with tomato sauce, but Kreacher had stopped by briefly to deliver some food on Hermione's instruction. Kreacher also took the time to inform them he could not come by that often (he tried to hit his head against the wall, but Harry forbade him from proceeding). His visits had to be restricted to a few every week – "Week?! How long do you think we will have to stay here?!" Harry exclaimed, but Kreacher couldn't answer and had to leave. Already the wards were affecting his health visibly; his skin looked more wrinkled and like it would come peeling off of him any second now. In a way Harry was glad when he was gone.

Dinner was a simple affair of spaghetti and tomato sauce. Harry vowed silently to make something nicer for the next day – not that Snape would ever appreciate it, but it would certainly give him something to do and he would feel better about himself. They had stores enough to last them a few days, at least.

Harry felt worn out after dinner, but didn't dare to say anything. He sat on the couch and tried to stay awake, while Snape had grabbed a book.

"Utter drivel," Snape informed him again. It was practically the first time he had said something during the whole evening. There had been a grunt from him when Harry had served dinner, but nothing more. Harry didn't know if it had been a good or a bad thing that Snape hadn't commented on their dinner.

"So you said earlier." Harry yawned and barely remembered to cover his mouth. "Why are you reading it then?"

"Do you have any better suggestions regarding what I should do with my time?"

Harry wasn't about to suggest a conversation, no matter how nice it would have been to fill the silence, and he just shook his head in lack of a better suggestion.

"I didn't think so." Snape sniffed and opened the book. Out of the corner of his eyes Harry watched Snape read. He was fast at it, but then again it shouldn't come as a surprise. Snape's office had been full of books and unlike with other professors Harry had been always pretty sure that Snape had read them all. Twice, probably. Dimly he wondered whether Snape's private quarters back at Hogwarts and now his flat held many more books and what Snape liked to read. Surely the man couldn't just read scientific literature. Harry felt his eyes droop and another yawn sprang from his lips.

"It's not even past ten," Snape said without looking up from his book.

"Can't help it when I'm tired." Harry blinked hastily, trying to battle sleepiness. It seemed the dreaded question was becoming unavoidable now. "What about the sleeping arrangements?"

"What about them? I'll take the bed and you with your nubile back can take the sofa."

Harry grimaced. While not terribly keen on the sofa, he really would have preferred to follow Snape's lead on this. "I'm afraid that's not possible." And he really was.

"What are you talking about?!" Snape looked up then and then back and forth between the hallway that led to the bedroom and the sofa. "Oh." Snape cleared his throat; the man clearly was feeling uncomfortable. "I see. The distance is too -"

"Yeah." Harry looked on the sofa and played with the flowery cushion. "Rather." He thought about moving the sofa, but if they put it in the narrow hallway they would have to walk over it every time they wanted to go to the living room or away from it. And the bedroom itself was too small to fit another piece of furniture in it.

Snape stared at the book. He had stopped turning the pages. "There seems to be no choice in the matter. We have to share," he said between pressed lips. Harry nodded slowly, feeling utterly not at home with the decision. But there was nothing for it. Snape went back to his book.

  


* * * * *

  
Harry woke up in the middle of the night when he had a nightmare about something strangling him. His eyes shot open but he didn't move – a trick he had learned as an Auror – and tried to get his bearings. Soft snoring to his right reminded him that Snape – Snape of all people! – was lying next to him and logical deduction followed that the arm on Harry's chest belonged to Snape as well. Because Harry's own were at his side and he was on the edge of the mattress.

"Typical," Harry muttered quietly and removed Snape's arm. "Of course the bastard doesn't share." Snape had also hogged the blanket, which explained Harry's cold feet. Maybe Kreacher could bring them another one next time he visited.

Harry felt the urgent press of his bladder and, since he was already awake, slowly trotted into the bathroom. The distance to which, thankfully, was less than twenty feet, including the toilet bowl, the sink and the shower. They had tested it and had both been very relieved by that fact.

After taking care of his business, Harry walked back into the bedroom. He stopped at the door and looked at the bed. The room was illuminated by moonlight and allowed Harry to look at Snape without being berated, belittled or snapped at. He had watched Snape so often while they had both been at Hogwarts, mostly with suspicion in his mind. He had, of course, amended his opinion about Snape after having seen the memories and had, or so he hoped, paid back his life debts in helping Snape get pardoned and rewarded with an Order of Merlin. Since Snape had never mentioned their encounters of any kind, Harry had decided that, water under the bridge, a new chapter of their lives had started. And it had, only that he couldn't claim that this chapter was friendly.

Harry sighed, but didn't take his eyes off Snape's sleeping form. In sleep, he found, the man looked somewhat peaceful. Snape had filled out a bit in the years after the war. While he was still thin, he was no longer haggard. He still didn't seem to bother about his hair (Oh, how much Harry wanted to make him wash it!), but at least Snape had never reeked, if one didn't count the smell of Flobberworms after preparing potions. And Harry didn't, because he knew how hard it was to get that stink off of his hands. And cauldrons. And desks. Oh, the glory of endless hours of detention. He shook his head and smiled ruefully. He hadn't exactly been the best student, not that he regretted anything he had done to deserve the detentions.

Harry made his way back to his side of the bed. Snape's arm was lying on his side again and he pushed it away as carefully as he could. He really didn't want to find out how cranky Snape would get if he woke him up in the middle of the night.

He had often wondered what his mother had seen in Snape. But in the back of his mind, as Harry closed his eyes and drifted back to sleep, he realised that he had never seen Snape sleep before, had never seen him at peace. Now he could understand what his mother had felt.

  


* * * * *

  
Two days later, both their nerves were wearing thin. There was nothing much to do inside or outside the cottage, apart from reading, staring at the walls and cleaning. And there was only so much a person could take of any of these activities before doing something that was rather unwise. So Snape snapped at Harry whenever his eyes started burning from reading too much or when Harry took too long in the loo or when he was particularly bored or – Harry suspected at least – when he didn't like the look of Harry's hair. In turn, when Harry was fed up with Snape's moodiness and his complaints about the books, he started provoking Snape to have at least something to do. Arguing, he found, made time pass quicker, but it also brought the lack of magic to mind.

More than once he had noticed Snape's hand twitch and grasp his wand and every time this happened, a painful expression crossed Snape's face. Harry felt the same. He had never wasted a thought about what could and would happen if he ever lost his magic, because he had never thought it was possible. Not being able to do magic was worse than losing a limb. He felt hampered, lost and constantly on the edge. It was like he was shackled to the wall and starving, while a delicious meal stood just out of his reach. He stretched and tried to get to it, but he would never be able to touch it.

This 'never' was what made him quiet every time the thought crossed his mind. Hermione hadn't been back to reassure him that he would get his magic back, which led him to the suspicion that a permanent loss was not completely impossible. He was so afraid of losing his magic... he didn't know what he would do. Coping with the temporary aspect was hard enough, but the idea of never being able to cast a single Lumos, a single protection spell had him stumped, breathless. To have known what it was like to practise magic, to have this energy flow through him only to have it taken away, was unimaginable for him. The possibility was too terrible to face. He suspected it was the same for Snape, if not worse. Snape had always known that he was a wizard and had always used magic. Harry'd had less years of using magic, especially when you considered the age difference.

Finally, Kreacher appeared again, this time with books. He left almost immediately after Apparating in, and before Harry could even ask him a question. On top of the pile, though, Harry found a letter. He snatched it up before Snape could get to it, and then settled on the sofa, leaving Snape to sort through the books.

  


> Dear Harry,
> 
> I'm still doing research and have not yet come to a conclusion regarding your case. Ron is helping, too, and he might force Draco into helping as well, seeing as Charlie is currently working in Romania and Draco is bored anyway.

Harry snorted at that. Draco was always whining about how bored he was, even though he was working as a barrister these days. The only time Draco actually shut up was when he was busy with Charlie – which was not something Harry wanted to think about. He had never been too big of a fan of red hair and freckles – and girls, actually, which explained why his relationship with Ginny hadn't worked out at all. But they were friends now, so that was okay.

> I'm sending a couple of books along, seeing as you might want to read up on the topic of bonds as well. Or rather, I suspect that Professor Snape wants to read up on it. It wouldn't do you any harm, either, but knowing you, I'll give you a brief summary:
> 
> It looks like the bond on you is not directly a curse, but rather an enchantment. There are various enchantments and magical bonds, therefore I'm not quite sure which one we might be talking about.
> 
> Hence, the books. I have the same editions and will be looking through them. I will try to drop by tomorrow and discuss my ideas with you and Professor Snape – and I will check up on you. I surely do hope that he hasn't been too horrible to you. Ron says he would bribe Kreacher to lace Snape's food with laxatives if he is too much of a bastard. He also sends his best, but you know him and writing letters.
> 
> See you tomorrow and loads of love,  
> Hermione
> 
> P.S.: READ THE BOOKS!

Snape looked up from the books as Harry put the letter aside. "Did she tell you anything of interest?"

Harry gave him a look before sitting down on the floor next to the pile of books. "She thinks the bond is not part of a curse. And she's coming by tomorrow to discuss ideas."

Snape was already sorting the books again and just nodded distractedly. He sure as hell wouldn't make any interesting company that night, Harry decided, and sighed. He could just as well listen to Hermione and read a book. If it would help to get him out of this situation, he would power through it. He grabbed a book at random and settled back on the couch.

  


* * * * *

  
Hours later he woke up in the bed. Confused, Harry looked around and wondered how he got there. The last thing he remembered was fighting for his eyes to stay open as he read probably the dullest book in history. It had been ancient and full of Greek words that he hadn't understood, but he hadn't wanted to make a fool out of himself by picking up a new book. Snape surely would have made a snide comment.

Harry rubbed his eyes and yawned. He must have fallen asleep on the sofa and, seeing as he was now in the bedroom, Snape must have carried him here. Harry glanced at Snape's sleeping form with surprise. He would have expected Snape to shake him hard to get him to wake up in a situation like this. But Snape must have been gentle and careful, because Harry surely would have woken up otherwise, being the light sleeper that he was.

He yawned again and decided it was too late and he was too tired to ponder about the whys and hows. He pulled off his shirt and trousers, then snuggled back under the blanket again, sleepily relishing in the warmth that the other body in the bed provided.

* * * * *

  
Clinging to his coffee, Harry finally did ponder about Snape and his behaviour. In the morning – after his first two cups of tea – Snape started behaving like a bastard again, complaining that Harry was too slow during breakfast and telling him to hurry up so he could take the first turn in the bathroom. Harry, still not quite awake, just took his coffee to the bedroom, where he waited for Snape to finish in the bathroom.

That thought led him to thinking about Snape _in_ the bathroom. He took a sip of coffee (with milk and sugar), while wondering whether Snape would wash with a washcloth in the sink or whether he would take a shower. That led him to speculate about how Snape would look naked. He blushed at the thought – because, really, how did that come to mind?! He had seen Snape undress since they had come to the cottage, naturally, but he had never _looked_. But now he was curious and he damned his own mind for it.

A tug in the region of his stomach made him flush even more, though he couldn't classify it. He had never felt anything like that before, so he pushed it to the back of his mind as a side-effect of drinking his coffee so quick on a relatively empty stomach.

  
Snape came back with dripping wet hair and Harry took his turn in the bathroom. "So he had a shower," he thought and bit his lip as he closed the door behind himself. The bathroom mirrors were steamed and suddenly Harry felt breathless.

After undressing, he stepped into the shower – the water was still warm – and started to soap himself up. Involuntarily his thoughts came back to Snape standing in the shower, soaping himself with the same shower gel that Harry was using, and Harry felt a whole different tug, one further down than his stomach and one that definitely was more familiar. He groaned with embarrassment, but that didn't stop him from reaching down and touching himself.

How long had it been since he had wanked? In the days before taking this job he had been too tired to do anything but fall asleep as soon as his head had hit his pillow, and in the cottage he had been too embarrassed and worried to even think about it. Now there was his erection and he was not about to ignore it, not when he could be quiet and the sounds of the shower would mask the ones of his hand moving on his dick.

Images of naked skin flashed through his mind; long, black hair touching a slender, pale back. Harry's dick got even harder and for a moment he nearly snapped out of the fantasy when his mind began to wonder why he was thinking about Snape of all people at this moment. But then he pictured Snape's hands and nimble fingers and wondered what they would feel like on his hot skin. He leant against the shower wall for support. Quickening his strokes, his mouth was open in a series of gasps, water dripping from his lips.

The unfamiliar tug was back in his stomach, then shot lower, raced through his body and mingled with the tingle announcing his orgasm and he came, hard.

Harry rested his head against the tiles and waited until he had caught his breath. He continued his shower and tried hard not to think about what he had just wanked about, who he had pictured, but when he finally went to the bedroom again to get dressed, he couldn't look at Snape. Flushed bright red, he hurried to get dressed – and completely missed how flushed Snape was, as well.

  


* * * * *

  
They spent the rest of the day reading through the books – plural in Snape's case, singular in Harry's. This time, Harry had picked up a volume that seemed to be of a more recent publication date and one that he found, thank Merlin, easier to understand. While reading about bonds and the hundreds of variations they could take, beginning with a bond between brothers in arms to unbreakable vows, Harry racked his brain to try and find how an enchantment could be combined with a curse. Because surely the old biddy who had owned the cottage before, must have done so, otherwise she would not have woven in a spell like that with the bed, especially not in a house filled with curses.

It was weird, because most curses were clearly out to harm or kill, while this one was doing neither. Sure, it was a nuisance, but apart from the fact that their lives were seriously disrupted, Harry could not claim (no matter how much he wanted to) that it belonged to either curse category. A curse with a different purpose certainly was something new and a curse combined with a bonding enchantment was even more unusual.

Hermione, when she finally arrived in the evening, agreed. She had come alone, because Ron had to watch the children.

"Are you saying that this discussion will not suffice to bring us to a solution?!"

Hermione grimaced. "Well. To be honest: no."

Harry groaned. And there went his hopes to make it to the weekend pick-up game of Quidditch. His team was in the lead at the moment, but surely Ron's would smash them into the ground if Harry couldn't be their Seeker. After all, Draco was playing on Ron's team and among the amateurs Draco was the best Seeker (next to Harry). Ginny had long ago decided that her talents would be better used as a Chaser, and besides, she would be sitting the games out because she was pregnant. "So you haven't found out what this bond is?"

"Well." Hermione coughed. "I kind of have an idea."

"You do." Snape raised an eyebrow. Harry tried to imitate the expression, but failed. "Do tell."

"I haven't got the exact bond that you are bound by, but I narrowed it down to a class." Hermione fidgeted. Harry didn't like her fidgeting, because it usually meant something big and bad was coming. In school it had usually been a long winded explanation, but in the latter years it had been bad news like 'Ron is going to quit the Aurors'.

"Yes?"

"It's a... a marriage bond. Of sorts."

Harry stared. Blinked. Gaped. "What?!"

"That is impossible!" Snape exploded and strode back and forth in front of the invisible ward separating them from Hermione. "Ludicrous! Do you even have any proof?!"

Hermione cleared her throat. "I do. The fact that you cannot separate for more than twenty feet, for example. It's a classic sign of a marriage bond."

"But not the only one," Snape said and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "There have to be more bonds that feature the same thing. What about slavery bonds?"

"What?!" Harry jumped up. "I'm not your slave! You can just forget about that particular fantasy!"

Snape waved his hand at him dismissively. "Shut up, Potter, and let the grown-ups talk."

Harry growled and gave Snape a good push. "Bastard."

Snape pushed him back. Harry fisted his hands into Snape's robe, while both his fists itched to deck Snape.

"You two stop that this instant! Neither of you is behaving quite grown up!" Hermione shouted. She had her wand out, but Harry knew she wouldn't be able to hex them through the wards. At least there was one good thing about being locked inside. Nevertheless, Snape and Harry let go of each other. "And that was just a perfect example of why the bond between you cannot be one of master and slave – one of you would feel compelled to serve and obey the other and not following orders would result in painful punishment."

Harry stared at her with horror. How could such a bond even exist?! Did people really cast bonds like that? The idea alone was horrible enough to make him shudder. "But it's not that."

"No." Hermione shook her head. "You need to stay close together and you have had a relationship prior to the bond." Harry was quite sure that his shrewd look was mirrored on Snape's face. "Don't look at me like that. Someone with your history should be able to accept that. You, Professor, were friends with Harry's mother, then the time at school, followed by the war... do you see what I'm getting at?" They both nodded. "That's what's influencing the bond, I suspect. Bonds that are not specifically cast as such are susceptible to outer influences. And this one was highly unconventional, what with being combined with something like a warding curse. But curses are your expertise, so I'll leave the figuring out to you."

"What do you suggest we do about this bond?" Snape asked finally, after they had time to calm down again.

"Research. I just know the basic classification, but there are – again – a lot of variations, all with differing effects. If we figure out what we are dealing with, we will know how to break it. Plus, I consider it entirely possible that the bond influences the warding spell." Hermione cleared her throat and brushed some invisible dust off of her robes. "Kreacher will come by tomorrow, if possible, and bring you new books. Anything else you need?"

  


* * * * *

  
Harry found the chapter on marriage bonds quick enough and pointed it out to Snape, who just gave him a murderous look and ignored him. "Look, I don't like it any more than you do, but if Hermione says this is what we are bound by -"

"It's one idea, Potter, one. I refuse not to consider other possibilities, no matter what Miss Granger -"

"Weasley."

"- says. I will do my own research."

Harry shrugged. "Suit yourself. I just thought the quicker we find the exact bond, the quicker we can get out of it."

"Exactly. But we have to find it first, which is why I won't limit the scope. But you go ahead. Try grasping what the nice little book tells you." Snape grabbed a stack of books and wandered off to the kitchen table, where he set up camp.

"Could you stop insulting me and my intelligence?" Harry asked. He was tired of all the insults, of hearing how stupid he was, how little he could grasp. He was just as good at dismantling curses as Snape was, thank you very much, and he had managed to get through school just fine. Albeit with Hermione's help in some subjects, but there was nothing to be said against study groups.

"No." Snape hadn't even looked up and Harry bristled in silence, knowing any other reaction would make no difference anyway.

  


* * * * *

  
The next morning passed in the same uncompanionable silence as the evening before had ended.

Harry let Snape take the first turn in the bathroom again and finished his coffee while lounging on the bed. Minutes after Snape had vanished into the other room, Harry felt that tug again, but this time it stayed. He quickly put the cup away before he could accidentally spill it on himself and waited for the feeling to pass. It didn't.

He felt himself grow hot, then hard and flushed with embarrassment. He flicked his eyes towards the bathroom door and wondered if he could dare it – but no, he had to wait. As soon as it was his turn to take a shower he could – the thought went out the window as another surge of lust raced through him.

Harry bit his lip and hobbled over to close the door, then hurried to push his boxers down and put his hand on his dick. A moan broke from his lips and he quickly put his hand over his mouth to stifle the sounds he made. Pictures of Snape in the shower – now so much clearer even though he hadn't seen Snape naked – flashed through his mind again, pictures of how Snape would stroke himself. He quickened his pace, felt the tugging in the pit of his stomach grow stronger, and came.

He didn't have to time to relax in the after-glow, though, and hurried to clean himself as well as he could with paper tissue. Shortly afterwards, Snape entered the room. His skin was red from the shower and Harry caught a glimpse of an erect nipple that nearly made him get hard again. He hurried out of the room immediately and took a shower that was colder than necessary.

  


* * * * *

  
Harry was going stir-crazy from all the sitting around and reading. "Let's go outside!"

Snape glanced up briefly. "Whatever for?"

"I need to do something."

"You're doing something. You're annoying me – while you are supposed to be reading."

Harry rolled his eyes. "I need to move. To exercise or something."

"Or something. Exercise your brain."

"You could read outside."

Harry started pacing through the room. It was bad enough that they were trapped in this little enclave, but he felt caged inside this house. How long had it been since he had done any sport at all? How long had it been since he had been flying? He missed the feeling of wind in his hair, the exhilaration of diving straight down towards the earth and then just pulling up in time to avoid crashing. He needed to breathe some fresh air. "Please." The word had left his lips before he had thought about it, but instead of being ridiculed by Snape for being weak (or had that been Uncle Vernon who had compared asking for something to weakness, while Aunt Petunia had punished him for not saying 'please' and 'thank-you' when she had expected it?), Snape looked genuinely surprised.

"Very well. You can carry one of the chairs outside, because I sure as hell will not sit on the grass."

Harry all but beamed and did as he was asked. He breathed in deeply as he went outside. The weather was pleasant enough, quite warm and sunny, and Harry hoped Snape wouldn't have too much to complain about today. He started jogging on the spot as soon as Snape had sat down and tried to ignore Snape's look of what Harry thought was disdain, complete with Snape having raised an eyebrow and his eyes fixed on him. Harry dropped to do some push-ups and said: "Some of us need to do sports in order to stay in shape."

"And some of us don't care." Snape's head was back in the books. Bastard.

  


* * * * *

  
Harry managed to read through a good portion of the book, but he still didn't know any more about the situation they were in. The bonds described were all consensual, official bonds that differed in the manner of casting, the partners involved and the contracts at the base of the enchantments. None, however, fit into their situation. Tired of reading, he started rummaging through the cupboards in the living room, looking for something to do.

What he found was a bottle of Firewhisky. Eagerly he grabbed a glass and poured himself a drink, sighing when the alcohol touched his lips and tongue. It was a good year of whisky as well.

"Isn't it a bit early for a drink?" Snape asked without looking up. Harry rolled his eyes and poured him a drink, too. "Well," Snape amended and sniffed, "I suppose it's past five somewhere."

Harry started dinner then – another round of spaghetti, but this time with a proper Bolognese. He wished he had some red wine for the sauce, but he made do with what Kreacher had brought him.

  
After dinner Harry topped off their glasses again and settled on the couch, leaning back with a sigh. He felt full and satisfied, bordering on happy. To be honest, he hadn't had time to relax in a while now, and this really was a good way to do so. He took another sip of the Firewhisky and let it work its way through his body, slowly making him feel lightheaded. By then Snape had stopped reading, too, and was staring outside while still sitting at the kitchen table.

Harry didn't ask what he was looking at. Probably freedom, he thought a little wistfully, and stared into his glass before his eyes found themselves fixed on Snape's profile again. Gone was the relaxation he had seen on Snape's face in his sleep. It was weird, though, how close Harry felt to him despite the insults and the fights they constantly had. He suspected that when it came down to it Snape knew him better than most. Maybe even as well as Ron and Hermione, though on a different level. Harry knew a lot about Snape too, but the man still remained a mystery to him, no matter what. In a way he would have liked to change that, but then he thought that Snape would hardly allow it. He looked back at his now empty glass. Maybe if he…

Harry went over to the bottle, filled their glasses again and clinked his against Snape's. But this time he didn't go back to the sofa. Instead he leaned against the kitchen counter and looked at Snape. How did one go about striking up a normal conversation with Snape? He took a sip, hoping to find the answer in the whisky – and he did.

"Do you live in a flat or a house?" he started with, eventually.

Snape looked up with a frown. "What kind of question is that?"

"A normal one?" Harry shrugged and gave him a wry grin. "I just wondered."

Snape regarded him for a while, a bit of suspicion in his eyes, raised his glass and said: "I sold the house." Harry felt a tug in the general region of his stomach again. Then he felt something… something like curiosity and trepidation mixed into one and Snape asked him: "Are you going to tell me what the whole Boggart thing was about?" Harry felt like Snape had punched a hole into his stomach. "I haven't asked, but I do have the right to know, seeing as your reaction landed us here."

Harry looked up sharply at that. It wasn't his fault that – well. Maybe it was. But it was still unfair. Yet something told Harry that Snape actually cared about why Harry had stood there frozen in fear while being face to face with Rowle. "I… Rowle tried to capture Ron, Hermione and me after we fled from Bill and Fleur's wedding. That was right after the ministry was taken. We escaped, he got punished. Then he found me during the battle and he… he wanted to get even. Used the Cruciatus Curse and… I don't know. If Voldemort hadn't been looking for me he would have _kept_ me, I think. Or would have dragged me off to a place he could do whatever he liked with me. I think it was a sixth year Slytherin who jumped to my aid. Together we drove Rowle off, but then I lost sight of both. I just know that Rowle died during the battle. But what he did to me –"

"I understand, Potter. I have been on the receiving end of curses like that." Snape took a long sip from his glass and Harry did the same, hoping for it to warm his body. He looked at Snape and felt another tug, but this time it was practically soft, gentle and hesitant. Snape cleared his throat. "So, did you want to know anything else about my living arrangements? You already know about the house."

Slightly stunned at the change of topic, Harry nearly choked on the whiskey. When he finally could speak again, he said: "Yes, but you still haven't told me whether you live in a house or a flat."

"You are insufferable." Snape rolled his eyes. "A house, of course. There is no room for a proper potions laboratory in a flat. Do try to think once in a while, Potter."

  


* * * * *

  
When Harry opened his eyes the next morning, he found himself looking at Snape's face. Snape was lying mere inches away from him, still asleep. Harry had never before looked this closely at Snape, even though they had been working at the same company for a while now.

He had never before noted that Snape had long lashes or that the wrinkle that went upwards between Snape's eyebrows smoothed out while he slept. Nor had he seen the little scar from what looked like chicken pox in the middle of the wrinkle. For a moment Harry longed to trace the ridge of Snape's nose with his forefinger and feel Snape's heartbeat against his fingers when he touched Snape's neck just below his jaw.

But then he felt Snape stir and quickly got out of bed. He felt even more confused than he had since this whole mess with the bond and the wards had started. What the hell was it that he was feeling? Involuntarily his eyes drifted towards the bathroom door and he remembered that he had wanked over Snape – twice now. He should know what the whole thing meant, then, the back of his mind supplied helpfully, but Harry didn't want to accept it. He couldn't possibly… not Snape.

"What are you staring at, Potter?" Snape asked and yawned, stretching on the bed like a cat. Harry felt something stir – a familiar feeling, followed by a familiar tug – and swallowed heavily.

"Nothing, really." Bollocks. In every sense of the word. Harry cleared his throat. "I'll go shower first." He hurried out of the room and closed the door, only to then go to the nearest wall and hit his head against it. What was he thinking?! Not much, that was clear, at least not with his brain. Why, of all people, did he find himself interested in Snape? Sure, yes, there had been this phase when he had fancied the Half-Blood Prince, but that was a completely different matter from thinking about Snape while jerking off in the shower. Where was the transition? When had he started to think that he liked the way Snape looked?

He tried to think of the first time and it coincided with them being caught in this house. It had been the first time he had had the time to properly look at Snape. Snape wasn't good-looking, that much was clear. He wasn't even handsome, not traditionally, at least, but he had _something_ , Harry found. Maybe it was his eyes or his hands or the way his jaw curved – or maybe it was all those things together. Thinking about them certainly made Harry's heart beat quicker.

Groaning, Harry found himself hardening again. Well, there was nothing for it, he thought. He surely wasn't about to waste a perfectly good erection just like that. Harry took off his clothes and stepped into the shower.

  


* * * * *

  
Still confused from the revelations he had made that morning, Harry stooped over the book that he had read the day before. There were still some chapters he hadn't yet looked at and no matter how much he just wanted to throw the book in a corner and go out and lie in the sun (or do anything else, really), Harry made a promise to himself to finish reading the book.

Page after uninteresting page made his eyes burn and water and his yawns grow bigger. Snape was already giving him looks that Harry tried to ignore. Harry tried to wake himself up by making some tea – Snape liked his black with just a dash of lemon – and then focussed on the book again.

 _A marriage bond that is nowadays out of fashion, because it had become impractical in modern age, is the one that binds both parties together. It was used especially when both partners in question had not had the time to develop the deep affection that is usually needed for a traditional marriage bond and have only established a certain amount of fondness or attachment._

 _Once the bonded pair has managed to develop their love for each other, the bond, though still existing, lessens and allows them to move apart from one another. The bond, as such, functions then 'merely' as a connection that is mostly emotional and opens up the partner's feelings to the other._

Harry blinked. He blinked slowly and steadily and forced himself not to look up or take a deep breath or scream. The description in the book sounded exactly like what Harry was experiencing. The limit to the space they could be apart, the emotional connection. Hell, he even could admit that there had been a certain kind of attachment between them – after all, as Hermione pointed out, he had known Snape since first year and they had developed a relationship of sorts during all the years.

Slowly, Harry closed the book, only to open it again. He had to re-read the section again and then he would see if there was anything about resolving the bond. The thought alone made him feel queasy, but there was nothing for it. It was what they had been talking about with Hermione, after all. Now Harry had found what they were looking for, he thought, but he wasn't too sure whether he really wanted to know all he was about to read about.

  


* * * * *

  
Harry could barely eat during lunch. He couldn't help wondering how much of what he was feeling was actually created by the bond – maybe he only felt this weird tugging and the lust for Snape because of the bond made him. Maybe, if the bond didn't exist, he wouldn't feel such things.

And then there was the matter of Snape. Snape had never even breathed a word about experiencing anything like what Harry had. In fact, Harry couldn't see any difference in Snape's behaviour since they had arrived. And this could mean that Snape didn't actually feel the same things Harry felt. Something like that was dangerous. If he would talk this over with Snape, Snape would surely make fun of him. Snape certainly was as limited in his movement as Harry was, but Harry couldn't believe that the emotional exchange actually went both ways, no matter what the book said.

He was just cleaning the dishes – oh how much he missed magic for this sort of thing! – when he heard someone calling from outside. "Hermione!" Harry shouted and ignored Snape's wince. He ran through the door and stopped, waiting for Snape to move so he could go outside.

"Very well," Snape said and got up. Slowly. "Maybe she has some news about our predicament."

Hermione didn't; at least not any news that brought them closer to solving the riddle of their imprisonment. She gave Harry a detailed account on Neville's dating life, much to Snape's chagrin, and told both of them that all they had so far on the wards was that the same object that must have bonded them had also created the wards.

"The bed, then," Harry said and frowned. "But we cannot break the ward-curse if we don't get our magic back –"

"And our magic seems to be bound to the wards being closed." Snape stared off into the distance, his brain obviously working overtime. Harry thought it best to leave him thinking – Snape was more likely to come up with a solution, anyway, and Harry had something important to ask Hermione. He nodded with his head to the right, making sure Hermione understood that he wanted to talk in private.

Harry and Hermione moved away as far as the bond allowed and Hermione whispered: "What is it, Harry?"

Harry bent as close as he could without smacking his head against the wards. "Hermione, how much can a bond influence your way of thinking?"

Hermione blinked. "What do you mean?"

"Can it…" Harry licked his lips and nervously looked over to Snape, who appeared to be as bored as they come. "Can a bond make you feel things? Can it change you?"

"Some can, yes." Hermione frowned at him, and then her eyebrows rose. Harry practically saw how the dots in her mind connected. Her eyes flicked back and forth between him and Snape. "But not a marriage bond, Harry. Marriage bonds are entered by partners who have pre-existing feelings. It won't create something artificial." She paused for a second before continuing, "Harry, you are saying what I think you're saying, right?"

Harry looked away and shrugged. "I might. I don't know. Would it matter to you?"

"No." Her answer came quick and honest and when Harry looked up he saw Hermione smile. "If that's what you want… just be careful, okay?"

Harry nodded. "I'll try." He ran his hand through his hair, then shook his head to make his hair fall back into place. "But I have to tell him first. Just because I feel like this doesn't have to mean that he does, too."

  


* * * * *

  
Harry was stumped. He had no clue how to approach the subject of the bond. So far all he had been able to come up with was _'Hey Snape, guess what, I have feelings for you which might be because of the bond.'_ and _'Hey Snape, did you know that when you wank in the showers I can feel it and get hard, too?'_. Neither seemed to be the ideal solution for his problems. If only he could know what mood Snape was in, maybe he would be able to approach the subject –

Harry smacked his forehead with his palm.

"Self abuse is the first sign for madness, Potter. Not that I don't approve of you getting slapped over the head," Snape commented without looking up.

Harry ignored his own blush and decided to concentrate on the feeling in the pit of his stomach instead. The point where he had felt the tug. He thought of the sensation that morning, on Snape and on their connection. Suddenly he felt warmth spread through him and he felt content, somehow, relaxed. Harry sighed happily – and then nearly jumped as something else raced through the bond. He opened his eyes to find Snape staring at him with wide eyes.

"What did you just do?"

Harry swallowed thickly. He hadn't expected that Snape would notice his little experiment. Should he… could he tell him the truth now?

"Come on, Potter! Did you lose your ability to speak?"

"No, I –"

"Did you just do magic? Is your magic coming back?!" Snape sounded so excited that Harry cringed with a guilty conscience.

"No." Harry cleared his throat. "I just… there's this…" And then it all came out. That he felt this weird tug, that he found a description of a bond matching what he felt and experienced and that he could feel Snape's emotions.

"We should keep our distance," Snape said with a voice that sounded terrifyingly unlike him, but Harry shook his head immediately.

"What, in this house? The wards are so narrow that we cannot _not_ see each other all the time! Besides, I don't want to keep my distance."

"What do you mean by that? Surely you must realise that the more we are in contact with each other, the closer the bond will get and the harder it will be to break it."

"So you want to break the bond."

"Yes, naturally," Snape said and brushed some lint off of his robe. Then he looked up, sudden surprise on his face. "You don't wish to –"

"I don't know." Harry started at his feet. "I just…" He took a deep breath. Why bother worrying about what would happen in the future? The war had surely taught him to live in the present – and the present was what he would enjoy. They would find a solution for whatever the fates had in store for them; he was sure of it. "I just know that I don't want to pretend we're not here together. And I don't want to spend my days not talking to you and being miserable."

Snape blinked. He didn't say anything for a long time and Harry already thought he had overstepped his bounds (though when had he actually paid any attention to those ever before?), but then Snape finally started to speak: "Very well."

  


* * * * *

  
The next morning, just after breakfast, Harry kissed Snape for the first time. Their lips touched briefly, sweetly, and Harry blushed down to his roots as he parted from Snape, who just stared at him and blinked. The tugging feeling in the pit of his stomach told Harry that Snape definitely wasn't angry with him, so he moved closer again, tentatively touching Snape's arm.

"Is this okay … Severus?" Harry had never said the name out loud, but it sounded right, somehow. Severus eyes darkened and as a reply he pulled Harry close again.

  


* * * * *

  
Harry woke up with a feeling of frenzied panic during the night. He was clammy with cold sweat and he was shivering all over. Yet he couldn't remember having a nightmare. He turned towards Severus and saw him staring ahead unseeing. Ah, he thought, that explained everything then. Harry scooted closer and laid his head on Severus' chest – Severus' heart was pumping fast. Slowly, Harry moved his hand until it was covering Severus' and he squeezed, gently.

It was only then that Severus took a sharp breath and exhaled shuddering. He turned towards Harry and practically clung to him.

"Are you okay?" Harry asked after a while. He felt Severus nod, but also knew that he definitely wasn't okay – he could feel it. He moved his head and kissed Severus, first tenderly, then more urgently and pulled at him until Severus was lying on top of him. Severus kissed him back with just as much fervour.

Harry felt desperate, needy and he didn't know how much of it was his own feeling – where his feelings ended and Severus' began. It didn't keep him from spreading his legs and pushing his crotch up against Severus. Severus was just as hard as he was.

"Are you sure?" In the darkness, Severus blinked down at Harry.

"Yes," Harry breathed and thought he'd never been surer of anything in his life. He wanted Severus so much – had wanted him possibly even before they had been caught in this house, and certainly ever since he'd seen the man undress.

"We don’t even know of the possible consequences…"

Harry shook his head. "I don't care. I'm sure." And that was it. No more questions, just kisses and moans and hurried undressing until they could press their naked bodies against each other.

"Fuck," Harry breathed and Severus chuckled against his skin. Harry grappled for some lotion he'd found in the dresser and pressed it into Severus' palm. There was no need for instructions, no further questioning, thank Merlin. Severus coated his fingers and set about preparing Harry, first slowly, then, with withering patience, more hurried. "Do it," Harry moaned and spread his legs further. "Please!"

Severus coated his cock with the lotion and pushed in ever so slowly. Harry moaned as he felt the burn spread, but only because he knew it would get _so much better_ later. He pushed back against Severus' cock until he was in completely and Severus bent down to kiss Harry.

Harry didn't need to beg for him to move; Severus pulled out and pushed in, in one smooth motion, hitting Harry's prostate at the first try. Harry threw his head back and gripped the sheets tight in his hands as Severus started pounding into him.

"Oh God, yes!"

Severus lifted one of Harry's legs up on his shoulder, giving him better access, and held it there while his other hand rested just above Harry's shoulder. He pushed in harder, deeper until Harry couldn't keep himself from reaching down and fisting his cock. Raw passion shot through the bond, mixing, racing off in both directions and they moaned in unison. Sweat ran down Harry's forehead and their bodies were sticky with heat, but Harry didn't care, not when Severus hit his spot just right and reduced him to a moaning puddle of _Oh-my-God-yes-there-more-fuck-fuck- **fuck**_ as the orgasm ripped through him. Severus' thrusts became quicker and with one final, merciless push he came.

Slowly, Severus let Harry's leg slide from his should and he lay down, gingerly, half on top of Harry, half next to him. Both of them breathed harshly, staring into the darkness while wearing stupid, exhausted smiles on their faces.

"Bloody hell," Severus said eventually and Harry laughed breathlessly and kissed him.

  


* * * * *

  
"Morning," Harry said and pressed a kiss to Severus' lips before going back to sipping his tea.

"Harry, I've been sitting with you at this table for more than ten minutes now. I said 'Good morning' when we got out of bed." Severus rolled his eyes, but Harry only grinned at him.

"Did you? Well, you should know by now that I take a bit in the morning."

Severus snorted and pressed a kiss to Harry's head as he got up to make some more toast. "I do know that. Weeks of waking up with you have taught me a lot. Nevertheless, I thought I should point it out."

Harry shook his head in fond exasperation. Ever since they had given in to the bond the mood had eased – and even the bond itself felt gentler, softer somehow. It was a good life, actually, apart from the fact that they couldn't leave the house. But they'd had most of the rows two people could have while being cooped up together – not that it kept them from re-visiting them once in a while.

Their whole day-to-day life had slowed down, really. What research could be done on the marriage bond connecting them had been done. Severus still kept on reading and Kreacher had brought them books on curses some days ago. So far, there was no news. But it was a sunny morning, the tea was good and strong and Severus had fucked Harry hard the night before, which meant that life was good and Harry looked at their situation with some more fondness than usual. They would figure it out, eventually.

  


* * * * *

  
There was a knock on the door. Severus stood up so quickly that he knocked Harry off of his lap, dumping him on the ground. But Harry was too stunned to care. They looked at each other, fear, uncertainty and curiosity pounding, racing through the bond. Another knock set them into motion; Severus helped Harry up and together they went to the door and opened it.

Hermione and Ron were standing in front of the house – _right in front of the house_ – wearing grins that looked embarrassed and happily smug at the same time.

Harry just gaped, unable to speak. Severus managed to utter a stuttered "What..?!" before Ron stared to speak: "Just so you know: we tried coming by earlier, but you were … err… busy."

Harry blushed down to his roots. He remembered exactly what they had been busy with on the sofa. And the kitchen table. And against the hallway wall.

"Does that mean we're free to leave?" Severus asked and Harry clung harder to his hand. He couldn't help but be afraid, afraid that Severus would just leave him forever, if he could. Severus squeezed his hand.

"Yes, you can leave the house," Hermione confirmed and nodded.

"How –"

Ron and Hermione shrugged in unison. "The wards seem to have dissolved themselves. I got an alert from my own monitoring spells sometime yesterday, when the wards were still partly in place and this morning they were gone completely," Hermione said and looked at them as if they were two particularly interesting puzzle pieces. "You must have done something over the last few days to make the wards react like that."

Harry coughed, but before he could say anything Ron had raised his hands. "No offence, mate, but I really don't need more info beyond what I have seen already."

Hermione laughed at Harry's expression, then stepped aside to let them outside. Harry and Severus walked to where the invisible barrier had been. They looked at each other, then took another step. Nothing stopped them. They were free.

"And our magic?" Severus asked and took out his wand.

"Try it." Harry nudged him gently and watched how Severus tried to conjure a chair. He was unsuccessful and practically deflated immediately upon the failure of the spell. Harry whipped out his hand. " _Lumos_!" A small light appeared at the tip of his wand and Harry let out a whoop of happiness. "Our magic is coming back! See that Severus?!" He hugged Severus fiercely and beamed at him. Suddenly he felt a wave of unhappiness streaming through him. "What is it?"

"What about the bond?" Severus asked and cleared his throat.

"I…" Harry bit his lip. "I can still feel you. Do you think it will dissolve, too?" Severus just shrugged. "Do you want it to?"

Severus was silent for so long that Harry wanted to scream. He couldn't feel anything through the bond, which was scary, but Severus had always been good at hiding what he felt. Finally he said: "No, I don't think I do."

Harry threw himself at Severus and held him close. "Good," he breathed into Severus' robes. They would manage, somehow. They would argue, they would laugh together, but they would muddle through no matter what.

"Do you think we should stay in the cottage for a bit longer?" Harry asked. Severus looked over Harry's shoulder at the cottage and slowly shook his head.

"I was rather thinking of treating us to a nice dinner somewhere on Diagon Alley."

Harry nodded and looked over at Ron and Hermione, who waved at him. "Let's go," he said and Severus Apparated them away.  


  


-The End-

  



End file.
